Promises
by Lady Firewing
Summary: He made promises and broke them. Now left with the pieces, she makes a promise to protect and love what he would not.


**I'm on a roll. **

**Yes, this is in my DC universe, no you don't have to have read anything before this. It's mainly a prequel to my last book in the trilogy, but you won't have to read my first two either, because thanks to LadyAlambielKnightofNarnia there will be a summary of the first two for any new readers. **

**This probably won't make sense at first, but if you read the third book, then it will (think of this as like the prologue before the prologue). As of 4/1/2012 it has not been posted yet, but it will be soon! ****It is also fine as a stand alone.**

**Read and review.**

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><p><em>Til death do us part…<em>

Well he had kept _that _promise. But he had broken so many others. The promise to stay for his daughter, for instance, not to mention the promise to take care of himself and not to let himself drown in grief. I could go on for hours, even days, about the promises he had broken. He had left us, commitments he had made to everyone - even his dead wife - left behind, shattered as the crystal vase he had knocked on his way out.

Yes, my own heart ached, throbbed, cried out in pain, yet I still _lived_. There was a great hole in my heart, almost unbearable, but I still took care of my children, didn't down my sorrows in the bottle (as tempting as it was) like he had done, and even tried to help the others move on. We had suffered so much loss, now what could we do? We could only push forward, never being able to forget the past, but still moving on despite of it.

My husband stirred next to me. I sighed as he pulled himself up and into a sitting position. I couldn't see his face, but could still feel where and how he moved.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur near my ear, soothing my stretched nerves. Again, I sighed, unwilling or unsure of how to respond. Understanding, he opened his arms and pulled me close. I breathed in his scent, feeling a little more of my inner turmoil fade. A little. I felt less alone. Someone else did share my burden, the knowledge that one of the bundles in the nursery across the hall was not our, should never have been ours, yet now it was up to us to take care of her.

"How could he?" My voice was bitter. I felt bitter and wanted to lash out all my pain. "How _could _he just up and leave, abandon his daughter, reject her? Does he think he's the only one suffering pain? We all lost a lot that day."

"Not everyone copes like you can." He squeezed my shoulder. "He lost his wife and knows it should have been him."

"Why did it have to be anyone?" I mused. "All that death and destruction? And for _what_?" My voice rose, which was probably not the best idea. "Pointless pain and loss, devastation, the destruction of one of the few safe havens for mutants. Yes, I know the Morlocks didn't have the most comfortable living arrangements, but at least it was somewhere our kind could go if they didn't want to stay around hu-" I was cut off by the cry of a baby.

"Blast." I cursed. My voice must have gotten too loud. My husband moved to go. "No, I'll get her."

I ran across the hall to the nursery. A few bassinets were there, cradling one of my own, among others, four in all.

No. Two of my own. He no longer had any claim on his daughter. He had left, shouting to the rafters he wanted nothing more to do with his very flesh and blood. 'Fine then.' I thought bitterly.

The one year old was wailing, kicking and screaming for her Mama. "Shhh..." I tried to soothed, hoping against hope that the others would not wake. "Shhhh... M-mama's here." My voice broke. Until a month ago, another had taken that role. Until a week ago, I wouldn't have dared dream of taking my dear sister's place. But perhaps -not for my own sake, but for the child - it would be better if she never knew. Yes, it would be better if she never knew about the father who had abandoned her. And to forget him she couldn't know about her mother.

"Shhhh..." Again I hushed the small, crying baby in my arms. "I'm here. Mama's got you. I'll never let you go. I promise." When the child fell asleep again, I placed the bundle back in the bassinet and whispered, "Mama's got you. And I will never abandon you." I wasn't proud of what I was going to have to do.

But what I did was to protect my daughter.


End file.
